The Memory Remains
by HippieHebe
Summary: Back from Vietnam Steve feels things couldn’t get any worse, until Evie walks back into his life. ONESHOT.


**The Memory Remains **

**  
Disclaimer:** Characters belong to SE Hinton.

**Summery: **Back from Vietnam Steve feels things couldn't get any worse, until Evie walks back into his life. But do things get better? ONESHOT. 

**Author's Note**: What can I say? Evie and Steve are my favourite canon couple in fandom, and Evie is my favourite canon girl. Shame there aren't nearly enough fic's with the two as main characters. Moving on, I hope I got Steve down ok, I've never written him before. Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated.

xXxXx

He couldn't sleep anymore.

Not without the help of a lot of drugs and tons of booze. He had nightmares. The kind that had him screaming and sweating in the middle of the night. If he closed his eyes again after one, he would still see bullets ripping through his best friend; hear the screams from him and others around him, and the blood... Oh, there was always so much blood.

The doctor's hadn't helped much. They'd prescribed him sleeping pills and some other pills, that were supposed to make him less depressed, they only thing they had helped with was another addiction. He stopped going to the doctor after that.

_It'll make you feel better, get your mind off things. It always worked for me, especially, when Soda died. _

That's what Darry had told him. He told him to get some gym equipment.

So he did. Second hand stuff, of course. Then again, he couldn't even afford the second hand equipment either but he didn't care. What else was he going to spend his money on? Being broke stopped him spending on drugs and alcohol.

He lifted those weights until his muscles went numb and pumped on the bench until he lost all feeling in his arm. With all the working out he did, he still managed to look like shit.

_You ain't got it anymore, Randle. You're old. A has been. A washed up fuck. _

Usually the voices in his head were his father's, sometimes they were his own and on those rare occasions they were Sodapop's.

He was fiddling with the barbell one night, loading on the heaviest weights and debating whether to visit his mother or not. He loved her, but she fussed over him too much. That and she had always managed to work into conversation that he wasn't married and she wanted grandchildren. He hadn't visited her in a week now, and if he put it off any longer, he'd get a phone call from her - bitching how her only son was too busy to visit his lonely mother. Ever since his father died, which he wasn't too shook up about if he were being honest, she'd started babying him more.

Dropping the barbell on the ground, he sat up, concentrating on the silence. He was pretty sure he had heard something. He was right, a soft knocking rapped on his door. Getting up with a groan, he made his way to the front door. With his luck it was probably his mother, with baked goods, there to tell him about one of his girlfriend's single daughter - who looked like a moose but was a _sweet girl_ nevertheless.

He opened the door. His mouth dropped open; it wasn't his mother, but the last person on earth he'd expected to see.

Evie Reynolds standing on his front porch.

She hadn't changed much. She was still a knockout, wearing a short yellow dress and a sly smile. He had only seen her once since he had left for 'Nam.

"So, you finally got your own place," she said, her voice was still as sultry as he remembered it.

"What are you doing here?" Steve had only meant to ask, but it had come out in a low snarl.

"I came to see you," she replied, unfazed by his tone. "You know, you never wrote, not even once."

"Neither did you."

"Fair enough," she smiled, waltzing through the door.

"Did I invite you in?" Steve growled.

"Do you want me to leave?" Steve opened his mouth and shut it again. No, he didn't. He hadn't been with a girl in ages, and he could tell she wasn't wearing a bra. His groin jerked. He was pretty sure she'd noticed, because her smile had grown wider. Shutting the door he led her to his living room. "You've been working out."

"Yeah," he answered. "Got to do something to forget..."

"I heard about what happened to Sodapop," Evie began "I'm sorry. It must have been hard on you."

Steve didn't want to here it or think about it; wringing his wrists with agitation, he sat down on his bench and picked up the smallest dumbbell.

"Your hair's a lot longer than I remember it," he said thickly.

"Do you like it?" She edged closer to him.

"Yeah, you look good."

"So do you," she licked her lips, noticing her green eyes gleam like a hungry cats.

"Yeah, right."

"You were always modest," she scowled straddling the bench behind him, and breathing against his neck.

He jumped up reflexively and turned around, looking down on her with a look of puzzlement. She smiled, looking up at him hungrily. Stepping back, he growled.

"What the fuck are doing you here?"

"Visiting you," she rolled her eyes.

"Why?"

"I missed you," she blushed.

He furrowed his brows, staring at her perplexed by her response. He opened his mouth to speak, but on the last moment snapped his jaw shut, and shook his head.

"Get out."

Evie gaped, as Steve stormed into one of the rooms, slamming the door behind him.

"Steve," she sighed. Getting up she made her way toward the door that barricaded her from Steve.

She raised her hand, knocking on the door with her knuckles and waited for a response. Nothing. She called his name to no avail. Putting her hand on the door handle she opened the door.

The room was dark, and she could barely make out objects in the room but she saw him, sitting on his bed, his back to her.

"I thought I told you to get out," he voice was cold.

"I never listened to you when we were dating, what makes you think I'm going to listen to you now?"

He laughed. Bitterly.

She had seen him once, when he had come home for a while, during his father's funeral. It had been at Buck's. She'd been on a date with a guy called Chris Wilson, and naturally he'd walked through door the moment her date plucked up enough courage to make out. The black look Steve had shot her date could've killed pigeons mid-flight.

Evie sighed; for once she'd have to make the moves first. Her high heels tapped against the floorboards as she made her way over to bed. Sliding on to the mattress, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, rubbing her nose against his neck.

"Why are you here?"

Evie sighed. "I told you already."

Turning around he looked at her and she stared back.

When Steve had left for Vietnam, Evie had cried. She had known girls whose boyfriends had gone off to war, girls who had waited for letters and visits, only to find out weeks later that their guy's had died. She didn't want to be one of those girls. She didn't want to be bent over with worry when a letter was late. It was why she had broken it off with him as soon as he enlisted.

She thought it'd be easier, but it hadn't. She had still worried, and had cried herself to sleep almost every night during the first month he was gone. When Sodapop Curtis had died, she was sure Steve would be next. She had cried even harder then.

Most of it had come out in stutters, but she was glad she had said it all.

"You know what the funny thing is," she laughed nervously. "All the guys I had dated after you were dark haired."

Steve continued to stare. Evie felt her stomach lurch, and she was pretty sure her face had gone pink.

To her surprise, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a kiss.

xXx

Steve's hair was damp and his eyes darker then ever. Every muscle in his body was tense and sheen with sweat. Beneath him Evie gasped, her eyes snapping shut as the feeling hit her. Steve followed not soon after, throwing his head back with a roar. Dropping his head Steve relaxed, resting on his elbows, he breathed raggedly.

"Steve?"

"What is it, babe?"

"I…" She bites her lip. "I have to go."

Glaring at her, Steve rolled off, and sat up on the edge of the bed. "Now?"

"Steve…" Evie trailed off, not knowing how she was going to put this. "I-I…"

"What is it?"

"I'm married."

He turned to face her, he didn't need to say anything, his face betrayed anything he was trying to hide.

"Steve. I know what I did is wrong, I should have told you before," Evie begged. No shit, he thought bitterly. "… I missed you so much. I had to see you again, I wanted to be with you again. I don't even love Chris; you're the only man I ever lo-"

"Stop." He growled. "Just stop. I don't want to hear it."

He couldn't believe it. He knew she'd date other guys, but he never thought she'd marry someone besides him. Evie was _his._ No man knew her the way he did, and no woman knew him the way she did. He didn't care that she was with another man; it was the fact that she was _married_ to another man that got under his skin. Bile rose up in his throat.

"But-"

"Get out." He got up and stormed into his bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Evie got up and dressed. Picking up her shoes, she made her way toward the bathroom door, her feet padded on the cool hardwood surface. Lifting her hand up, she knocked on the door.

"Steve?"

No answer.

She sighed and waited, hoping he'd come out of the bathroom. Eventually, she gave up. As she was about to leave, she pulled out a lipstick tube out of her purse and scrawled a little message on his mirror. Slipping on her shoes, she left.

Hours later, Steve finally came out of the bathroom. Standing in the middle of the room, he sighed. It was then he noticed the message written in blood red on his mirror. Bawling up his fists, he growled, smashing the apology into a million pieces.

Just on schedule, the voices in his head taunted away, as he reached for his pills.

_Nice going Randle, that's just what you need. More bad luck. _

xXxXx

Man that was the hard. I hadn't planned on ending it like this, but mid-way everything took a new direction, and yeah. Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated.


End file.
